


Dangers of the Lab

by aravenwood



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Bruce Banner, Hurt Tony Stark, Poor Bruce Banner, Science Bros, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: When an accident in the lab leads to a Hulk-out, Bruce struggles to deal with his guilt.





	Dangers of the Lab

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back with another fic! This one was yet another coping mechanism, which is always fun. I've actually had such a productive writing time the last week or so, it's great! 
> 
> Anyway, on to the fic. Hope you enjoy!

Tony was going to be ok.

After two days in critical condition with a vent forced down his throat, he was breathing on his own and was due to wake up at any time. The vent was gone, replaced by an oxygen mask, and they’d finished transfusing the last pint of blood. He was a healthier colour now, looked almost human, and one of the nurses had fixed his hair so he looked less like a wounded man and more like Tony Stark.

But that didn’t mean that Bruce could breathe easy. This was his fault after all, and even if the damage wasn’t permanent and was already starting to fix itself, that didn’t mean that nothing had happened. It didn’t change the fact that because of his stupidity and lack of control, he’d almost killed his best friend.

Ever since Tony was wheeled out of surgery, Bruce had been a constant fixture at his bedside. Never leaving to eat or sleep, the adjoining bathroom to Tony’s private room was the only place Bruce would ever go. He wouldn’t leave even when one or more of the other Avengers came to check up on Tony, only retreated to the corner of the room and stayed quiet and still like he could fade into the background. And that was exactly what seemed to happen – no one would acknowledge him, would only send him nervous glances as though they were expecting The Other Guy to come out at any moment.

He couldn’t say he blamed them.

Slumped forwards in his chair with his head bowed, Bruce scrubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted, yet to recover from the aftereffects of his transformation; his hands were still trembling, he couldn’t stop shivering from the bone deep cold and he was so hungry and nauseous at the same time. He hadn’t felt this bad in years, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up until it passed. He couldn’t though, not until he knew that Tony was safe.

Someone suddenly coughed and he jerked upright, eyes immediately searching the figure on the bed. Tony hadn’t moved though and as he glanced around the rest of the room, he found Natasha standing in the doorway, watching him with an unreadable expression. She didn’t say anything, nor did she move – she just stared, eyes slightly narrowed like she was scrutinizing him. Bowing his head once more, he pushed himself to his feet and closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness, hands still clutching the arms of the chair. He breathed deeply – in through the nose and out through the mouth, in through the nose and out through the mouth – until he didn’t feel so ill, then opened his eyes and stumbled to the corner of the room. As he stood there, shoulders hunched and hands twisting over his stomach, he curled up further as Natasha failed to look away. He could suddenly see her pointing a gun at him while the others rushed to Tony’s side; could hear it fire and feel the tranquiliser dart bury itself in his chest. He flinched, hand shooting up to feel for the dart that was no longer there.

He’d pulled it out when he woke up alone in the remains of the lab, Tony’s blood still on his hands. If he looked hard enough, his palms were still red and he could smell the blood, could even taste it in the air. It made him want to be sick.

Finally Natasha stopped staring at him and took a seat in the chair he’d just occupied. Her hand took Tony’s, careful of the IV, and pulled it to her lap. As he watched, her lips began to move in a one-sided conversation which was too quiet for him to hear. He shouldn’t be watching this, he scolded himself, and respectfully turned his back. Without meaning to, he rested his forehead on the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to get the sudden anxiety back under control.

There was another cough and his eyes sprung open, yet another wave of dizziness threatening to bring him to his knees. His head was aching and the shivering was worse now, his tight jaw the only thing keeping his teeth from chattering. As soon as he could see straight, he turned his head and found not only Natasha staring at him but the others too; Steve next to the bed, Thor in the doorway, Clint leaning against a far wall with his arms folded over his chest. All of them were watching him like Natasha had been and his skin started to crawl. His breathing came quicker. Monster, their eyes seemed to say. You could have killed him. You shouldn’t be allowed around people, they should keep you locked up like the monster you are. He flinched like the unspoken words were knives, and at the gesture Steve suddenly took a step towards him, one arm outstretched. Bruce jumped back, back hitting the wall, then his head. The pain wasn’t bad, but it was familiar. He gasped, fell to his knees and suddenly the hospital was gone.

_The world exploded in colour and suddenly Bruce was flying. His chest felt like it was on fire and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it was after the explosion. Then suddenly he hit the wall, the back of his head bouncing and sending the world into a dizzying spin. Vaguely he heard Tony calling his name, panic clear in his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply as he crumpled to the floor, feeling sick and dizzy and in pain. Pressure was building in his head and he could feel The Other Guy pushing to get out. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it._

_His muscles burned as they grew, his limbs extending and control torn from his hands. A roar burst from his chest and he could only watch like an outsider as The Other Guy pushed himself to his feet, locked eyes with Tony and charged. He screamed for Tony to move, screamed for The Other Guy to stop but neither call was heard and suddenly Tony was thrown aside with one quick swipe of an arm. Bruce’s arm. Tony was airborne for a quick second before he crashed into a table, which collapsed beneath his weight. He seemed to be stunned because his eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t calling for help or trying to get away. No Tony, you have to go! Get out of here, I can’t control him!_

_But no words came out. Even The Other Guy was silent in his violence._

_Tony finally moved, and not a moment too soon. As he pushed himself upright, staggering from side to side, The Other Guy charged once more. It was only a matter of seconds before he was once more on top of the vulnerable, fleshy Tony with no suit to protect him and no weapons at hand. He picked Tony up; fat, muscular fingers wound around Tony’s neck and squeezing. With one move he could snap it, but he didn’t. Bruce screamed again as The Other Guy’s free hand lifted to the glowing arc reactor, poking at it through Tony’s shirt then making a claw with his fingers, pushing into Tony’s chest like he thought he could break skin. But there was no leverage. As Tony choked desperately, his hands clawing at the giant green one to no avail, his body swayed in the air. The Other Guy grunted like he was getting frustrated and he slammed Tony down to the floor. Bruce actually heard bones breaking and he was sobbing and Tony was sobbing but The Other Guy wasn’t stopping, he was pushing on Tony’s chest and breaking ribs in the process. He was going to kill Tony._

_The Other Guy pulled back for a second, and Tony let out a horrible, ugly wheeze which had Bruce renewing his fight to regain control. The dizziness was gone, the nausea was gone and the pain was gone, so there was no mistaking the wet gurgle which accompanied Tony’s breathing. Every breath was more desperate than the last. Tony suddenly coughed and blood splattered on his lips and chin. Another cough and more blood, but The Other Guy moved forwards anyway, lifting Tony without care and throwing him against the far wall. He didn’t move after that._

_As The Other Guy took a step towards Tony, his attention was attracted by movement out of the corner of his eye. Bruce sobbed as they turned away from Tony and towards the doorway. There was Natasha standing there in front of the other Avengers, gun aimed at The Other Guy’s chest. Then came a gunshot and Bruce felt the pain just as strongly as The Other Guy. A green hand lifted and eyes lowered to stare at the feathered tail of a dart sticking out of the left side of his chest._

_A few seconds passed and then Bruce was falling to the ground. He could feel The Other Guy fading, could feel his limbs shrinking once more as he was allowed to regain control of his own body. It was cold and his chest burned, and his head felt thick and fuzzy. He was able to lift his head long enough to see the others running at Tony, not even sparing him a glance._

_“Is he breathing?”_

_“Barely. Look, there’s blood on his lips. We need to phone an ambulance.”_

_“Shit, he’s a fucking mess. He’s lucky to be alive.”_

_Bruce spared the energy to flinch. His head once more fell to his chest, and his arms which had been holding him up thus far suddenly buckled, sending him headfirst into the ground. He was able to roll over a little so that he wasn’t pushing the dart in further, but then what little remained of his energy was gone and all he could do was lie there and sob until the tranquiliser took full effect._

A hand touched his shoulder and suddenly he was back in the hospital, curled up in a corner with his hands buried in his hair as he sobbed. His head shot up, eyes meeting Steve’s baby blue ones, flinching at the concern he saw there. He didn’t deserve that, he deserved nothing but contempt.

“Bruce?” Steve called, lightly shaking Bruce’s shoulder. But as Bruce tried to look at him, the world started to spin again and this time it wasn’t stopping. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a low moan. He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. The world didn’t get any clearer. His head fell back against the wall and he moaned again.

Someone called his name once more, but their voice was strange and distant and he could barely hear them anymore. His eyes closed and he sighed as a wave of calm suddenly washed over him only a few seconds before he passed out.

\------

 When Bruce regained consciousness, he immediately became aware of the voices of his teammates talking in loud whispers. Steve’s. Natasha’s. Tony’s.

Tony.

Bruce’s eyes flew open and he searched the room in one dizzying sweep, holding back a groan as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He found the concerned faces of his teammates, but not Tony. Where was he? He started to panic – maybe it wasn’t Tony’s voice he’d heard. What if he’d killed him? What if after he’d passed out, his best friend had crashed and they’d been unable to bring him back, and the others were only here to say that he really was a murderer, or arrest him and lock him up in a cage for the rest of his life? He struggled to sit up, moaning weakly as the world started to spin. He felt sick and he could barely breathe.

“Woah, bud! It’s ok, you’re ok!”

Bruce jumped at the voice and looked around again. Clint and Natasha had moved to one side, finally revealing Tony in a bed just across the room. His face was drawn and lined with pain, and an oxygen mask was hanging against his chest, but he was awake and watching Bruce with wide eyes. One hand was braced against the mattress like he was ready to drag himself across the room despite the pain and weakness, although from the way Steve was watching him, he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Tony,” Bruce croaked. “I…I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m sorry, I lost control and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry.”

Tony grimaced and struggled to sit more upright, wincing as his injuries protested at the movement. “It’s ok, big guy. It wasn’t you, I get it. I’m fine, look at me, don’t I look fine? One hundred percent, A ok. Ok? It’s you we were worried about. The nurse said that you were dehydrated, starving and exhausted, your body had nothing left. You need to take better care of yourself, buddy, or who’s going to blow things up with me? I can’t bring these guys, they’ll tell me it’s “dangerous” and that I’m gonna “get myself killed”. Not you though.”

“I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“He-he was poking at the arc reactor.”

Tony’s face darkened. “I remember.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said again.

“Hey,” Tony called. He was frowning when Bruce looked up. “None of that. You were hurt and the green jelly baby was protecting you. You don’t need to apologise for that, ok?” Tony’s voice had lost some of its strength and his muscles were lax, his eyes heavily lidded. He was wavering, still weakened from his injuries but fighting to stay awake.

Bruce bit his lip. “You should sleep,” he said quietly.

“And leave you all alone feeling sorry for yourself? No chance.”

“He won’t be alone,” Steve said suddenly. Bruce jumped. His eyes found Steve’s filled with pain and regret, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. “You won’t be alone. Not this time.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ll stick around.”

“The chairs out there are seriously uncomfortable,” Clint added, rubbing his back dramatically. Bruce huffed out a weak laugh and turned his eyes back to Tony. The injured man was barely awake now, watching Bruce through narrowed eyes. His lips twitched up in a half-smile before his expression fell slack as he lost the fight to stay awake. Natasha lifted the oxygen mask back up to his face without a single word. Bruce nodded in thanks.

“We don’t blame you,” Steve said in a low, solemn voice.

“You should,” Bruce whispered.

“Doc,” Clint warned. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

He said it like it was so easy. More than that, he said it like he would do it. But after the incident with Loki, Clint had blamed himself for months for what he’d done under the other’s control, and others had blamed him too to make it even worse. The two situations weren’t so different. The only difference was that after all of that, Clint had his mind and body back – Bruce could lose it again at any minute, could hurt or even kill any one of them.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand. His eyes were starting to sting again, and he was so tired that he wanted to sleep and never wake up again. He slumped back down into the pillows and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “Right,” he whispered and then fell quiet. No one else spoke but he knew that they could tell he wasn’t asleep.

A hand touched his wrist, another his ankle and a third brushed through his hair. Something heavy landed on top of his blankets. Without meaning to, his body loosened as he opened his eyes a mere fraction to find his teammates huddled between the two beds, their attention divided between their two teammates. Thor’s cape covered him, providing more comfort than it did warmth. Bruce couldn’t help but smile. His eyes slid shut once more and it wasn’t long before he was asleep, resting peacefully under the watchful gazes of his closest friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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